Knights of the Old Republic: The Way of the Sith
by Jack of the Blades
Summary: Pre-KotOR. From beyond the fringes of civilized space, Darth Revan's Sith fleet masses for a lightning raid on a Jedi enclave. But for all his genius, the Dark Lord has failed to account for one variable: the strange powers of a young Jedi woman.


_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

_Through passion, I gain strength._

_Through strength, I gain power._

_Through power, I gain victory._

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

_The Force shall free me._

There was only darkness. There had always been darkness. It echoed throughout the very chamber he stood in, resonated through the eternal expanse of bleak space. It cast shadows darker than the night over his heart.

His eyes gazed blindly about the bridge of his flagship, _The Overlord_, as it drifted inexorably through the void. He stood before a great viewing screen, upon a raised dais above the pits in which his crew commanded his vessel. A panoramic view was provided for him, and he saw all. The myraid stars speckled the skies before him, painting a picture of such grandeur and of such immense proportions that truly only the Force itself could decipher its meaning, appreciate its beauty.

But he would soon enough. His Sith armada grew every day, and the Republic trembled at his very name. Hero or conqueror? Jedi or Sith? Who was Revan?

All around, the representation of his power manifested itself in the dozens of warships that coasted in silence along, directed by the thrust of their pulse ion engines, tracing glowing pathways through the blackness.

He observed the blackness in utter silence, his Mandalorian-style T-shaped visor reflecting all stares, if any had been fool enough to gaze upon him. His arms crossed before his armored chest as he considered the shadows of space, his hood drawn low over his masked face, his cloak swaying magnificently in a nonexistent breeze.

His vessel emerged from behind a small moon, and a planet appeared below. Large and green, the lustrous world held little to no civilized life, a strategic failure in the war. No one wanted that planet. Why would the Jedi be meeting here?

A gauntleted hand rose and stroked his masked chin thoughtfully, and for a moment he appraised the world below, then turned, cape billowing menacingly now, as he stalked toward a senior grade lieutenant, who saluted crisply and stood aside to allow the Dark Lord access to a COM station. Waving a hand almost lazily over its surface, a holographic projection emerged, rendered almost lifelike, albeit rather blue, before him. A scaled down version of his apprentice stood, and bowed.

Malak was indeed quite a specimin. A humanoid being swarthed in crimson form-fitting fiber armor, complete with an impressive cloak, Malak's pale, bald face leered out of the projection, addressing his masked master without fear or trepidation when most would have been reduced to stuttering.

"My lord," he spoke, his voice made mechanical and inhuman by a synthesizer in place where his lower jaw and neck should have been, "We are in position. _The Leviathen_ is poised to strike the Jedi fleet upon arrival. We have detected their inbound vectors, and it is most likely that their fleet will emerge via the Alderaan hyperspace route. I recommend—"

Revan silenced him with a subtle wave of his hand, turning to appraise the stars once more. Preferring not to speak, he merely impressed his thoughts into Malak's receptive consciousness. _No. Dantooine. They will come from Dantooine._

Malak was unable to surpress a shudder at the raw power that coursed through their mental link. Revan was indeed a formidable Sith. "But my lord, all the evidence points to—"

He knew better than to continue. Revan had made his point, and further objection would have been most unwise. His master had never been adverse to extreme punishments in response to insubordination. Malak's jaw tingled with the phandom memory of where his mouth had once been. An old wound his master had given him as a reminder of the cost of disloyalty.

Bowing deeply, he intoned, "As you command, my lord." His form was distorted by a wave of static, then vanished. The bridge was plunged once more into darkness.

For a moment he did nothing, merely admired the vastness of space a while longer, then continued along his circuit, eventually returning to his place of command.

Even as he returned to his thoughts of strategy and plots of subtlty, a blaring klaxon sounded, and several crew members began rushing about, agitated. The Jedi had arrived, as Revan already knew before the local commander informed him.

In moments the Jedi carrier ship would make a stop here, carrying its load of hundreds of the disciples of the Order. Then the fleet would strike, killing and capturing scores of them. They were Jedi, yes, skilled in the arts of lightsaber combat, true, but he held the might of the Sith in his fist, the power of his fleet, the strength of his untold legions…

And the secrets of the Star Forge…

But that was not important now. Even then, the Jedi carrier drifted into view, and his interdicter ships moved to intercept. But as they closed in, the Sith Lord sensed something was amiss. As the thought barely crossed his mind, a rift in space opened momentarily and forth from hyperspace spilled a small Republic fleet, not large enough to destroy him, true, but of enough bulk to give him due pause.

It was a trap!

Before his ships could regroup, the fleet opened fire on them, blasting away their outer shields, then ripping through the layers of high-quality durasteel like so much cheap plasteel. Smoke spewed forth from deep rents in the hulls of his foremost ships, and then they exploded, minature suns for the briefest of instants, and then they were gone, vanished among the darkness of space.

His fleet moved to compensate. Turbolaser batteries discharged at the enemy armada, punching a hole in their defensive column. Sith fighters swarmed along their lateral lines, peppering them with strafing fire.

It was happening too fast. There wasn't enough time to regroup. They wouldn't be able to take the Jedi after all. They needed to evacuate.

But even as he plotted out an acceptable course of action, his considerable mental capacity taking into account the various stratagems needed to achieve success, he noticed his lines wavering, his ships veering radically off course. Something was wrong.

Revan sensed rather than saw the resulting chaos as his ships veered radically off course, exposing their flanks to volleys of fire from the enemy. Most unlike his commanders to commit such a blunder, and indeed, it was no blunder. This was sabotage.

Even then, he felt a ripple in the force echo throughout his bridge, and his pit crew began to act in disunity, and many toppled over as the ship plummeted into the atmosphere. His lieutenant called for order, but it was no use. Revan had heard of this new Jedi trickery, and had indeed anticipated it, but nothing could have prepared his fleet for the destruction that ensued.

Without an outward sign of distress, he gazed on as half of his fleet was laid to ruin, destroying only a small number of Republic vessels in retaliation, while normally their precision turbolaser bursts would have crippled the enemy almost instantly.

Then he saw it. A glittering light in the great darkness of space, shimmering, streaking towards his vessel. It was no missile, and even if it was, his shields would have held. No, this was a ship. Ships. Several small, Jedi fighters.

A new development, to be sure, but it did not cause him undue worry. Surely they would be destroyed by his autoturrets?

No. The Force was indeed with these Jedi. No opposition appeared to stop them, to blast them out of high orbit, instead they only came closer, and Revan felt a moment of uncertainty: Should he flee now, and salvage what he could?

But curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. Whatever was causing so much disunion among his fleet, it had to be eradicated, here and now.

Turning to his crew, he signalled for them to shoot down the approaching craft, and they complied, but it was too little, too late. The craft had breached their outer defenses, and was now too close to combat.

_The shields will hold,_ he reassured himself, but even as he thought it, one of his crew made a critical error, punching down the shields himself. Revan moved swiftly, dispatching him with a wave of crimson light, but the damage was done. The shields flickered and died, just in time to admit the Jedi before they would have been dashed against the ship's hull. They had made no attempt to veer off course. They had planned this. All of it.

Turning to his interface, he punched up the barracks camera, and a Dark Jedi Master appeared before him, holographic, as Malak had been.

"My lord, what is your desire?"

He spoke in thought to his waiting disciple, who nodded in affirmation of his orders. "Understood, my lord. We will destroy the Jedi."

Hours passed, or perhaps minutes. Regardless, Revan lost track of time as he reorganized his remaining ships. Strangely enough, the disorienting effects had vanished once the Jedi had boarded.

With their wits about them now, the Sith bombarded the Republic vessels. Stranger still, they fought back not, instead focusing their retreating fire on any vessel but his own. This was bad. Their paths indicated they sought shelter on the far side of the planet. They were buying time. Rather than flee before superior strategy, they merely hid, waiting.

Even as he pondered this strange new development, a junior grade officer warned, "My lord, they have breached our defenses. The Dark Jedi were not enough for them. They are in the antichamber. We've sealed them in, but our ray shields won't hold for long."

Even as he spoke, Revan knew his words were true. The blast shielded doors to the bridge began to glow in a targeted point, first a faint red glow, then a warm orange light, then white hot as sparks played about it. A lightsaber was sawing through.

Withing moments, the doors parted, and many things happened at once.

Several lightsabers flared to life beyond the compromised door, green, purple, and an intense yellow, matching the color of the half-melted entryway. His silver-clad troops laid fire on the Jedi, but the batted aside the fire without effort, and his soldiers tropped to the deck, dead.

They advanced, ignoring the cowering crew, making for the Sith Lord who stood before them, still not bothering to draw his weapon. His arrogance angered them, but they restrained their emotions, knowing that it was what he wanted. All but one. The female who welt the firey yellow blade, who had cut through the door, radiated anger. This one was headstrong. Her very impression on the force was one of hasty rashness, and her anger at the destruction of her fellow Republic soldiers was evident. This would be interesting.

Without visible signal from their master, the Sith flanking the Dark Lord fell into combat stances, Ataru and Makashi respectively. The Jedi angled their blades as well, prepared for a fight.

In an instant, before any of the non-Force-sensetives could have seen a Jedi twitch, it had begun. Lightsabers burned through the air, leaving a trail of residual light and the smell of burning ozone in their wakes. The air was rent with the sounds of clashing blades, hisses and crackles as the energy swords crossed, their masters falling into intricate forms of combat, soaring through the air, spinning their weapons expertly.

Within moments, it was over for one of the female's companions, who staggered to the deck, clutching a large gash in his chest. The female cast an a glance back at her fallen compatriot, a silent cry twisting her otherwise pretty visage. Her espression hardened, and she turned to face her enemies, a snarl of fury on her lips, her dark eyes flashing with rage. This one was far from a master. She let her hate shine through her, a glorious monument to the Dark Side. She would be easy to best in such a state.

The female jumped, spiraling, before landing beside her remaining companion, and together they dueled Revan's acolytes. The Sith Lord made no move to assist his fellows, merely gazed on in mild curiosity at this perplexing Jedi. Her fighting was brutal, her weapon battering aside the defenses thrown up by his best Dark Jedi, pushing them back, gaining ground. Her very lightsaber indicated brutal power, a double-bladed model, intended for one purpose: to kill its opponent.

Which was exactly what it did. As her fellow battled his second defender, she knocked the first's Ataru defense aside with an almost contemptuous finality, then spun her weapon about her in a graceful yet deadly arc, before lopping off his head.

Rather impressed, he observed her more closely, at noted that she, unlike so many rash and unthinking Padawans he had seen in his days at the Academy on Dantooine, failed to let her anger best her. She channeled it, used it, made it a weapon. She wasn't afraid to dip into the Dark Side to achieve her ends.

And for the first time, Revan felt a pang of fear.

Turning to aid her companion, her rage worsened, creating a black hole in the Force of pure hatred, as her second fellow was beaten down. Grievously wounded, she clattered to the floor as her ally before her.

With a scream, the female lashed out, beating upon the defenses of the second Sith, who managed to combat her more effectively through his Makashi dueling stance. Still, her attacks grew stronger, and her eyes almost shone with power as she advanced, as she had done before. She was duelling to kill.

As his arms weakened under her endless barage, she spoke, her voice, clipped and elegant, alive with hostility. She punctuated each word with a blow to his blade. "The—Force—fights—with—me!"

Then it was over. He toppled aside, like a discarded toy, and flopped to the ground, beaten.

Turning to face Revan, her second ally (not dead, it seemed) rose shakily and drew her weapon to aid her leader. Raising a hand in open defiance, she called, "You cannot win, Revan!"

He made no answer, only fell into a Juyo fighting stance, his weapon finding his hand, as crimson fire lit the bridge in its eerie light.

Then it happened in a single moment as the Force itself intervened, halting Revan from his inevitable slaughter of the Jedi, and altering the course of the galaxy forever. It manifested itself in the form of a turbolaser burst from Malak's flagship, which crashed through Revan's unprotected flank, unshielded due to the fact that it faced his allies. The blast burned through durasteel plates in a microsecond, rattling the ship's very framework. For the most part, the damage was minimal. But that blast hadn't been intended to cripple the ship….

It had been destined to kill its master.

Revan was blasted off his feet, careening through the air, carried by the force of the blast aimed singularly at him. He slammed into the wall with an ominous crunch, and several pieces of durasteel crumpled like cheap sheets of flimsy, and crashed down upon him. He never stood a chance.

The Jedi too was carried off her feet, but seeing as how she hadn't been standing at the point of impact, she merely cracked her head on a console. Blood trickling into her eye, she made sure her companion was all right, then rose, somewhat shaken, and made a beeline for the Sith Lord.

Her weapon ignited in her hands again, ready for a fight, but none came. The Sith lay there, defenseless. His weapon had been lost, and blood matted his hood and caked his mask. Revan was the picture of defeat.

Her hands ran up and down her weapon's hilt, and her mind worked furiously. She had long since longed for the rank of Master, and here was her chance. Kill Revan, and she would be famous, catapulted through the ranks and honored with the praise of great Masters such as Vrook and Lamar.

The female's hands twitched slightly, an unbidden impulse tempting her to commit the deed. But even as she gazed upon him, Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith, murderer of millions, _billions_, in his short campaign, seemed almost innocent. In the Force she felt not the icy cold she had sensed only moments ago, that void of brooding darkness, she detected a frightened, confused, harmless soul. His very essence held not the depth of the Dark Side. It had never known the dark. Darth Revan was broken and defeated.

Without conscious thought, she knelt, a strange instinct of kindness staying her hand. Was it pity?

Gently caressing the side of his masked face, she made a decision most unlike her. Holding out a hand, she reached into the Force, and seized hold of the flickering remains of Revan's life and held it fast. He wasn't conscious, and she honestly doubted that he would survive, but this simple, merciful act just seemed right to her.

Her friend approached, having taken the lightsaber of their dead brother, and asked, "Bastila? Is he dead? Have you slain the Dark Lord?"

Bastila shook her head, her raven locks matted with her own blood and now that of Revan's as she drew her hand away. "No. He lives still."

Alarm radiated from her Jedi sister, but Bastila was quick to calm her. "Be at peace. He is dying. Help me lift him."

"_What?_"

Bastila was alarmed with herself, too. She had long since been known for her violent impulses. Why was she now, at the one time when these urges were needed for the greater good, rendered incapable of slaying the man who had killed so many Jedi?

"Just do it. The Council will want him alive, if possible."

Her eyes glanced at the source of the unbidden aid, and was alarmed to recnognize Malak's ship as it drifted out of firing position, vanishing into hyperspace.

As her friend began hefting Revan over her shoulder, Bastila did the same. But in her mind, she was reeling. Malak had betrayed his old friend, mentor, and master.

"So the stories are true," she muttered, as they left the bridge, the last survivors of a great battle.

"Treachery is the way of the Sith."


End file.
